


Laundromats Are For Losers, Anyway

by nerdylittledude



Series: Ugly Sweater !Verse [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 17:45:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdylittledude/pseuds/nerdylittledude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gratuitous, non-holiday fic this time! In which Dean and Cas suck at getting their laundry done, Dean is awkward and Cas has a penchant for oversized clothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laundromats Are For Losers, Anyway

**Author's Note:**

> This is short and awful but I really wanted to write! Written at 2am, don't judge me. I didn't even spellcheck. Zirra requested a fic about an ugly t-shirt. I think this counts?

Dean and Cas are very bad about getting laundry done.

 

Sam was always the one who kept Dean tidy and presentable, was always the one to remind him they needed to hit the laundromat or point out if he had food in his teeth. Dean never had to worry about keeping his shit together. But Sam's away and practically married now,  and Dean's like a college kid on his own for the first time.

 

It doesn't help that for a while Cas had some sort of ultra-convenient angelic homeostasis going on ever since he took on a vessel – the guy's clothes never got gross, the blood always disappeared and nothing ever needed to be changed or cleaned. Hell, he didn't even need to shower. Now that Cas is human, he doesn't have that convenience anymore. He's just taking his damn time getting used to remembering that. Needless to say, between the two of them, laundry tends to fall to the wayside.

 

“Cas, can you bring me my Zeppelin shirt and some boxers?” Dean calls from the bathroom. He's freshly showered, hair still slightly dripping, bare but for the towel clinging snugly to his hips. Cas is in the other room, snuggled in bed, the bedside light on while he reads. There is a long pause before Cas responds.

 

“The shirt is dirty,” he replies gruffly after a moment.

 

Dean has absolutely no recollection of wearing that shirt recently. In fact, he knows for a fact that it's clean because he put it away in the back of the drawer so he wouldn't accidentally grab it if he was in a hurry to get changed before a hunt or something. He makes an annoyed sound and leans his forehead against the door frame.

 

“No it's not,” he says irritably, “Just go check for me.”

 

“Dean,” Cas says in an even tone, “it is _dirty_.”

 

“Jesus Christ, Cas, can't you just go look?”

 

“I'm reading.”

 

This answer only serves to further irritate Dean. He's 'stranded' in the bathroom – he's never been naked around Cas before, and vice versa, and he really doesn't want to start now. Even with a towel, it'd be weird. They don't have any official rules about it, and after their interesting St. Patrick's Day... thing, Dean's pretty sure Cas would actually _enjoy_ seeing him so indecent... but it would still be weird. Dean's still _very_ aware of the drunken promise he made Cas – it's one of the few things he does remember of that crazy, amazing night – and his heart and stomach do weird flops whenever he thinks about it. If he didn't know better, he'd think _he's_ the virgin contemplating losing his innocence.

 

So Dean's been treading lightly, cutting kisses short, fast-forwarding racy scenes in movies, cautious about the inevitable. Cas, to his credit, has said nothing about Dean's strange behavior. Still, Dean's on one side of the bathroom door without the shirt he has suddenly decided he _will_ wear today, even if it takes all day to find it, and he doesn't want to keep hiding. Cas is obviously uninterested in helping.

 

Dean darts from the bathroom to their shared chest of drawers and hastily grabs some boxers. Cas is in his bed, covers pulled up to his chin as he reads. Dean rolls his eyes at the sight and then darts back into the bathroom to pull on his boxers. Dean's usually fine with their tiny studio apartment, has never minded not having a bedroom or having space for his own bed... but awkward moments like these are ones where he's seriously considering renting out a bigger space. Sharing a motel with your brother your whole life is infinitely different then the extremely complicated whatever-the-hell-it-is he's got going on with Cas.

 

Dean leaves the bathroom again, and while in his boxers he's no more covered than he was with the towel, he feels a lot less exposed. He can't help but note the way Cas glances up from his book subtly and looks Dean over, eyes tracing Dean's bare chest. When their eyes meet, Dean expects Cas to look away – but Cas never learned human things like when to be embarrassed. Cas just keeps looking at Dean's eyes until Dean looks away, tugging open the drawer to look for his shirt.

 

His shirt is not where he left it. It's not in the drawer that follows, either, or the rest – he goes through all of them, goes as far as taking them out and emptying them on the floor before conceding that it is, in fact, not there. He looks up at Cas, expecting to see him looking vindicated. Instead, he finds Cas looking flustered and studiously avoiding his eyes. Dean doesn't bother trying to decode the look and instead heads for the hamper where they keep their dirty laundry. He starts loading it into a bag before Cas speaks.

 

“Dean – what are you doing?”

 

“I'm gonna do the laundry, Cas. I want that damn shirt.”

 

“You're – you are intrinsically stubborn, Dean. It's nighttime, surely they'll be closing soon.”

 

“Whatever. I'll be back soon. I need to put jeans on first, though...”

 

“Dean, must you always - ”

 

“Jesus, Cas, I'm not gonna be gone long.”

 

Cas sits up, pushing the covers from his chest and then clears his throat. Dean's so caught up in loading the laundry bag that he doesn't get the point at first.

 

“It's not in there, Dean,” Cas says, after a moment of going unnoticed.

 

“Well shit, Cas, it's gotta be some...” Dean's voice trails off when he catches sight of Cas. Cas is red-cheeked and flushed, clearly looking like a child who's been caught doing something wrong. The cause for this blush is not lost to Dean; Cas is wearing his Zeppelin t-shirt.

 

“Everything else was dirty, Dean, and we were going to bed soon anyway. I didn't realize you would... My apologies, I'll take it off and find something else.”

 

Dean's across the room in an instant, stopping Cas' hands at the hem of the shirt as he's taking it off.

 

“It's okay, Cas,” he says quietly, crawling onto the bed and breaching Cas' personal space. Cas tilts his head.

 

“You wish to wear it, Dean. It's yours.”

 

Dean shakes his head.

 

“I like it better on you.” And it's true. Dean can't explain how nice it feels to see Cas in his clothes. The shirt's a little big on Dean; it's _way_ too big on Cas, oversized like all of Cas' ridiculous sweaters and it's so adorable Dean's not sure how to handle it. Guys shouldn't be allowed to be _cute_ like this. Dean's having trouble processing it. Finally, he heaves a deep breath and then puts a hand to Cas' cheek and kisses him, who practically melts under his touch.

 

“You should wear my clothes more often,” Dean says against Cas' lips. Cas meets his eyes, as though trying to determine whether Dean is serious or if it's another earth thing that's gone over his head. Dean's not joking, though, and Cas can see.

 

“I should?” Cas says dubiously. Dean kisses him again, long and slow and unlike the short kisses he's been limiting himself to lately.

 

“Mhm. All the time,” he says when their kiss breaks, voice lower than it ought to be, “I think it's _hot._ ”

 

Cas goes tense all over at this, and Dean chuckles at the effect his words have on Cas. He then crawls under the blankets and shuts off the lamp. After a moment, he feels Cas lay down, too. It's not long before Cas has inched his way next to Dean. There's a loaded moment when Cas' face is inches from his, where both man seems ready to do something, anything, but Dean breaks it by rolling over and cuddling in close to Cas, accepting the role as little spoon as Cas slips an arm around his waist.

 

“Got it, Cas?” Dean says sleepily, yawning all the while, “All the time.”

 

Dean can feel Cas' nod at the top of his head.

 

“Got it, Dean.”


End file.
